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The Banquet’s Guests
The hall is lavish, for lack of a better word. You would be hard pressed to name better, even amongst the richest palaces of the Seven Kingdoms – and you had visited most of those in some manner. If opulence was the measure of a nation’s strength, Methuss is strong indeed. At times like this, you are glad for your foresight in haggling the procurement of proper clothes for dinner. At the prince’s expense, of course. It would not do for his guest and the newest fellow of the Royal Caster Society of Methuss to appear in shabby threads. You had swapped your worn Barzamite cloak for an even furrier and thicker one to conceal your wing, and underneath you wore a dashing white coat embroidered with blood-red thread. It was a pity that nothing could be done about the hat: the tailor had tried his best, but all that he had achieved in the constraints of the current popular fashion was to make one so tall and long that it flopped over at the top, and to add a rather wide brim that could poke someone’s eye out if you stumbled about carelessly.
At your side is Arlin, dressed in similar attire to yours with matching colours, sans the hat and the cloak. He had cleaned up very nicely, and walking by your side, the both of you drew the eyes of every person in the room when you entered. You hope that it is because of your stunning good looks, and not the hat working its magic again.
Farland walks towards you with outstretched arms. “Sir Muhchacraken! So glad you could make it,” he says loudly. And when he draws closer, he whispers more quietly, “Your clothes were… rather expensive. I was a bit worried you would skip out on me after that.”
“And miss out on the banquet? Never, Your Highness. By the way, where is your adjutant?” You are not known to be a man who had ever missed out on a free meal if it could be helped. Besides, you had only just managed to persuade Rin from coming along by promising her you would bring some of the best delicacies back, though she could not stop casting doubt on your palate. Aria, on the other hand, was not happy that you were bringing Arlin instead of her, but she merely kept quiet and sulked.
“For tonight, Leila is attending in her father's place, not as my adjutant. She will be here later in that capacity. As for the banquet, please do try to leave something behind for the rest of the guests,” smiled Farland wryly. “Ah, I see you brought the boy from Erise along…”
“Arlin, Your Highness.” The bow that he gives is a bit stiff and imprecise, but it is full of polite charm nonetheless. “It is an honour to be allowed to come.”
“No, no, I am pleased that the both of you are here-“
“So this is the man you could not stop talking about, Brother?”
Farland is interrupted by a girl who would easily rate as the most beautiful one in the hall bar none. The blonde hair and blue eyes, as well as some slight facial similarities, leads you to conclude that she is royalty. One of the princesses, most likely, and the youngest one at that. Unfortunately you can tell that she does not have much business going on in front, unlike a certain other princess you are acquainted with, but her gown is expertly tailored to make something out of nothing. It must have been made by a master of that arcane art, cleavage magic.
“Ah, you are here, Faislin! Come, let me introduce you. This is my youngest sister, Princess Faislin.” Beaming, he waves at you, “This man is Trider. He saved my life on that nasty little business down near Erise. And this is his aide, Arlin.”
“Yes, or so I’ve heard.” Turning to you, the princess gives a crisp, impeccable curtsey. “It is a pleasure to finally meet the man my brother spoke so highly of. I hear that you are a spell caster, sir.”
You nod. “That I am, Your Highness.”
“I’ve sent a letter to old Argius to induct him into the Royal Caster Society. He’ll be an excellent addition to our country,” Farland says happily.
“Really?” Faislin’s eyes widen, seemingly impressed. “That is marvelous news! You must be a really talented man, Sir Trider.”
“Oh, don’t expect too much of me, Your Highnesses,” you say humbly. Indeed, you have no intentions of participating in whatever it is these royal casters do: all you want is access to their books. If there is any responsibility that you can shirk, you will shirk it. “I am sure there are much better mages than me in the society.”
“To be serious,” Farland lowers his voice. “After your display… no, I don’t think so.” He grins.
“Brother, we should go greet the other dignitaries,” reminds his sister patiently as she tugs at his arm. “I am sure that you have much to catch up on with Sir Trider, but affairs of the state come slightly ahead.”
“Of course, Faislin. I’ll be along in just a second. Can’t exactly leave a guest I invited in the dark about everyone else in the room, can I?”
A flicker of annoyance shows on Faislin’s pretty face, so brief that you could hardly tell that it had been there at all. She gives you a gentle, bright smile. “You are right, Brother. I’ll help you out then. It would make things go a little quicker.”
“Thank you.” Farland pats Faislin’s head. Her face flushes pink, but the princess does not pull away like you had expected her to. “Haha, don’t you wish you had a model little sister like me, Trider?”
“I do have a little sister,” you reply. Had, perhaps. Who knows what has happened to her by now. Perhaps you will never find out. Chuckling, you continue, “Though she is not a model for anything except being a spoilt brat. She would have loved attending a banquet like this one.”
“Did you not bring her along to the capital?” asks Faislin.
“Oh, no. I left her at home. The journey to Methuss was a bit too far, you see. Anyway, how about that little briefing you promised, Your Highness?” you say, changing the subject.
“Right. Let’s start with…” Farland gestures at a noblewoman, beautiful despite the beginnings of age starting to show around her eyes. “Faislin’s mother.”
“Queen Natalia,” says Faislin. “She’s the one who organized this banquet.”
“What about the King?” you ask.
“He has been sickly as of late,” replies Faislin. “Our father is in his bedchambers at the moment, attended to by my aunt.”
“My mother,” Farland adds. “They’re twins.”
“Moving on, the one over there with the sleek hair-do is the Crown Prince, Feist Yuiry, and besides him is the Third Prince Fillipe.” Faislin points at an arrogant, good-looking man surrounded by a large gathering of nobles, and another who could almost be his younger looking twin. “The man in red next to them is Duke Hargreave Brescia. Someone you should be careful around. I don’t think he likes big hats much.” The Duke is a powerfully built, balding man who carries himself with the bearing of a military leader. He seems strong enough, for a nobleman.
“Holding court amongst the women over there is another of my brothers, Fifth Prince Farstalt,” gestures Farland. Indeed, there is a charming blonde conversing animatedly with some pretty, well-dressed noblewomen off to the side. “And close by, over there by the liquor bar is Fourth Prince Fennick, Knight-Commander Belbro Wickman and Marquis Ondore Hastwell. The Marquis is married to my sister, the First Princess, but she is in Dijeh at the moment. He returned early after getting news of some trouble.”
“Yes, that business with Zayan. Do not worry yourself about it, Brother, I will take care of the matter,” sighs Faislin.
“Sounds like rather pesky business indeed,” you nod. “I hope you solve it soon.”
“Then we have that black robed group over there… do you see the tall, bearded guy with the pointy staff? That’s the Grand Imperial Archmage of Gran Byarlant, Julius Gallardo. He’s talking to our own Chief Mage, Argius Goethe.”
“Oh, there’s Count Muscus Norvegis,” murmurs Faislin, glancing at a nobleman with a pinched, ratty face.
“Count Norvegis? Ah, yes, I suppose he is… notable in his own way,” Farland nods. “He is known to be close to the Nine Fingers.”
“Now, that’s a name I haven’t heard before,” you say. “The name sounds rather shady.” In fact, you had encountered a Nine Fingers before – a rather petty criminal organization that took a bit too much joy in dominating their economy through brutality, right until you led a bunch of paladins to kick down their doorstep as another of your heroic deeds. Thanks to some sloppy accounting on part of the authorities which you befriended, some of the loot retrieved from their headquarters that day was never found…
“A criminal group masquerading as a legitimate business entity,” explains Faislin. “Their operations span the continent and they are quite active in Methuss as an importer of slaves in both legal and black markets.”
Ah. You should have known. What was it with criminals and the name ‘Nine Fingers’?
“You seem to have done your homework, Faislin. I’m impressed,” whistles Farland.
“Of course, Brother. It is my duty as a princess,” she replies primly. “Now, I believe we should be moving on? I am sure Sir Trider can take care of himself for a few seconds.”
“Sure I can. Did you get all of that, Arlin?”
“Eh… what?” Arlin looks up at you in surprise. “I… I think I remember it all.”
“Excellent. I’m counting on you.”
As the princess drags her brother away, Barbatos whispers to you in your mind.
“Boy. Dost thou sense it? The call of battle?”
“I sense nothing at all. What are you babbling on about now?”
“That bearded man o’er there, the one with a pointy staff. He, too, has sensed it.”
“You mean the Archmage?” You look at the Archmage of Byarlant, and find that he too is staring right at you with his piercing grey eyes. His staff, encrusted in what you now realize to be magnatite, is pulsing with light. No one else in the hall seems to notice, however. Then, he breaks eye contact and the light show fades.
“Athos resides within that staff. Ha! This is a good opportunity. Let us go smash that dunderhead with our knuckles, boy, and show these dullard humans a good spectacle!”
You think unleashing Barbatos and beating an old man bloody senseless on the floor of the royal palace would be quite a spectacle indeed, though the reactions you might get afterwards would not be too comforting.
“He’s not approaching us.”
“Of course he wouldn’t. Cowardice. That is embedded in Athos’s bone.”
“You mean bones?”
“No, bone, for he only has the one.”
You are not even sure how that would work.
***
You are perfectly capable of mingling while eating. You proceed to talk to:
A. Queen Natalia, the hostess of the banquet. She seems otherwise preoccupied with some very important people, but you are not the sort of person that would let that stop you from intruding on a lady.
B. The Crown Prince and his brother, as well as the Duke, who are gathered with the majority of the nobles. They seem stuck up enough to appreciate your big hat, and they do appear to be the actual power players in the country at the moment.
C. Fifth Prince Farstalt and his bevy of women. He seems to be drawing portraits of them at the moment. Perhaps you too can join in and admire the flowers, as there are too many weeds elsewhere in the hall.
D. Prince Fennick, Knight-Commander Belbro and Marquis Ondore, who are conversing and drinking by themselves. Other nobles attempt to join them from time to time, but for some reason they never manage to stay for long.
E. Grand Imperial Archmage Julius Gallardo. The old man has a demonic weapon and so do you. He is a spell caster, and so are you. Surely you have plenty of things in common to talk about. Besides, you would rather approach him first before he gets the jump on you.
F. Count Muscus Norvegis. He’s closely related to some criminal elements, which makes him of some interest to you. Perhaps these Nine Fingers may prove to be useful contacts in the future, and hopefully they are more competent than the ones you once encountered.
G. You attempt to rejoin Prince Farland and Princess Faislin and continue talking to them.
H. You do not approach anyone. Anyone who is interested in you should come to you, rather than you to them.
The hall is lavish, for lack of a better word. You would be hard pressed to name better, even amongst the richest palaces of the Seven Kingdoms – and you had visited most of those in some manner. If opulence was the measure of a nation’s strength, Methuss is strong indeed. At times like this, you are glad for your foresight in haggling the procurement of proper clothes for dinner. At the prince’s expense, of course. It would not do for his guest and the newest fellow of the Royal Caster Society of Methuss to appear in shabby threads. You had swapped your worn Barzamite cloak for an even furrier and thicker one to conceal your wing, and underneath you wore a dashing white coat embroidered with blood-red thread. It was a pity that nothing could be done about the hat: the tailor had tried his best, but all that he had achieved in the constraints of the current popular fashion was to make one so tall and long that it flopped over at the top, and to add a rather wide brim that could poke someone’s eye out if you stumbled about carelessly.
At your side is Arlin, dressed in similar attire to yours with matching colours, sans the hat and the cloak. He had cleaned up very nicely, and walking by your side, the both of you drew the eyes of every person in the room when you entered. You hope that it is because of your stunning good looks, and not the hat working its magic again.
Farland walks towards you with outstretched arms. “Sir Muhchacraken! So glad you could make it,” he says loudly. And when he draws closer, he whispers more quietly, “Your clothes were… rather expensive. I was a bit worried you would skip out on me after that.”
“And miss out on the banquet? Never, Your Highness. By the way, where is your adjutant?” You are not known to be a man who had ever missed out on a free meal if it could be helped. Besides, you had only just managed to persuade Rin from coming along by promising her you would bring some of the best delicacies back, though she could not stop casting doubt on your palate. Aria, on the other hand, was not happy that you were bringing Arlin instead of her, but she merely kept quiet and sulked.
“For tonight, Leila is attending in her father's place, not as my adjutant. She will be here later in that capacity. As for the banquet, please do try to leave something behind for the rest of the guests,” smiled Farland wryly. “Ah, I see you brought the boy from Erise along…”
“Arlin, Your Highness.” The bow that he gives is a bit stiff and imprecise, but it is full of polite charm nonetheless. “It is an honour to be allowed to come.”
“No, no, I am pleased that the both of you are here-“
“So this is the man you could not stop talking about, Brother?”
Farland is interrupted by a girl who would easily rate as the most beautiful one in the hall bar none. The blonde hair and blue eyes, as well as some slight facial similarities, leads you to conclude that she is royalty. One of the princesses, most likely, and the youngest one at that. Unfortunately you can tell that she does not have much business going on in front, unlike a certain other princess you are acquainted with, but her gown is expertly tailored to make something out of nothing. It must have been made by a master of that arcane art, cleavage magic.
“Ah, you are here, Faislin! Come, let me introduce you. This is my youngest sister, Princess Faislin.” Beaming, he waves at you, “This man is Trider. He saved my life on that nasty little business down near Erise. And this is his aide, Arlin.”
“Yes, or so I’ve heard.” Turning to you, the princess gives a crisp, impeccable curtsey. “It is a pleasure to finally meet the man my brother spoke so highly of. I hear that you are a spell caster, sir.”
You nod. “That I am, Your Highness.”
“I’ve sent a letter to old Argius to induct him into the Royal Caster Society. He’ll be an excellent addition to our country,” Farland says happily.
“Really?” Faislin’s eyes widen, seemingly impressed. “That is marvelous news! You must be a really talented man, Sir Trider.”
“Oh, don’t expect too much of me, Your Highnesses,” you say humbly. Indeed, you have no intentions of participating in whatever it is these royal casters do: all you want is access to their books. If there is any responsibility that you can shirk, you will shirk it. “I am sure there are much better mages than me in the society.”
“To be serious,” Farland lowers his voice. “After your display… no, I don’t think so.” He grins.
“Brother, we should go greet the other dignitaries,” reminds his sister patiently as she tugs at his arm. “I am sure that you have much to catch up on with Sir Trider, but affairs of the state come slightly ahead.”
“Of course, Faislin. I’ll be along in just a second. Can’t exactly leave a guest I invited in the dark about everyone else in the room, can I?”
A flicker of annoyance shows on Faislin’s pretty face, so brief that you could hardly tell that it had been there at all. She gives you a gentle, bright smile. “You are right, Brother. I’ll help you out then. It would make things go a little quicker.”
“Thank you.” Farland pats Faislin’s head. Her face flushes pink, but the princess does not pull away like you had expected her to. “Haha, don’t you wish you had a model little sister like me, Trider?”
“I do have a little sister,” you reply. Had, perhaps. Who knows what has happened to her by now. Perhaps you will never find out. Chuckling, you continue, “Though she is not a model for anything except being a spoilt brat. She would have loved attending a banquet like this one.”
“Did you not bring her along to the capital?” asks Faislin.
“Oh, no. I left her at home. The journey to Methuss was a bit too far, you see. Anyway, how about that little briefing you promised, Your Highness?” you say, changing the subject.
“Right. Let’s start with…” Farland gestures at a noblewoman, beautiful despite the beginnings of age starting to show around her eyes. “Faislin’s mother.”
“Queen Natalia,” says Faislin. “She’s the one who organized this banquet.”
“What about the King?” you ask.
“He has been sickly as of late,” replies Faislin. “Our father is in his bedchambers at the moment, attended to by my aunt.”
“My mother,” Farland adds. “They’re twins.”
“Moving on, the one over there with the sleek hair-do is the Crown Prince, Feist Yuiry, and besides him is the Third Prince Fillipe.” Faislin points at an arrogant, good-looking man surrounded by a large gathering of nobles, and another who could almost be his younger looking twin. “The man in red next to them is Duke Hargreave Brescia. Someone you should be careful around. I don’t think he likes big hats much.” The Duke is a powerfully built, balding man who carries himself with the bearing of a military leader. He seems strong enough, for a nobleman.
“Holding court amongst the women over there is another of my brothers, Fifth Prince Farstalt,” gestures Farland. Indeed, there is a charming blonde conversing animatedly with some pretty, well-dressed noblewomen off to the side. “And close by, over there by the liquor bar is Fourth Prince Fennick, Knight-Commander Belbro Wickman and Marquis Ondore Hastwell. The Marquis is married to my sister, the First Princess, but she is in Dijeh at the moment. He returned early after getting news of some trouble.”
“Yes, that business with Zayan. Do not worry yourself about it, Brother, I will take care of the matter,” sighs Faislin.
“Sounds like rather pesky business indeed,” you nod. “I hope you solve it soon.”
“Then we have that black robed group over there… do you see the tall, bearded guy with the pointy staff? That’s the Grand Imperial Archmage of Gran Byarlant, Julius Gallardo. He’s talking to our own Chief Mage, Argius Goethe.”
“Oh, there’s Count Muscus Norvegis,” murmurs Faislin, glancing at a nobleman with a pinched, ratty face.
“Count Norvegis? Ah, yes, I suppose he is… notable in his own way,” Farland nods. “He is known to be close to the Nine Fingers.”
“Now, that’s a name I haven’t heard before,” you say. “The name sounds rather shady.” In fact, you had encountered a Nine Fingers before – a rather petty criminal organization that took a bit too much joy in dominating their economy through brutality, right until you led a bunch of paladins to kick down their doorstep as another of your heroic deeds. Thanks to some sloppy accounting on part of the authorities which you befriended, some of the loot retrieved from their headquarters that day was never found…
“A criminal group masquerading as a legitimate business entity,” explains Faislin. “Their operations span the continent and they are quite active in Methuss as an importer of slaves in both legal and black markets.”
Ah. You should have known. What was it with criminals and the name ‘Nine Fingers’?
“You seem to have done your homework, Faislin. I’m impressed,” whistles Farland.
“Of course, Brother. It is my duty as a princess,” she replies primly. “Now, I believe we should be moving on? I am sure Sir Trider can take care of himself for a few seconds.”
“Sure I can. Did you get all of that, Arlin?”
“Eh… what?” Arlin looks up at you in surprise. “I… I think I remember it all.”
“Excellent. I’m counting on you.”
As the princess drags her brother away, Barbatos whispers to you in your mind.
“Boy. Dost thou sense it? The call of battle?”
“I sense nothing at all. What are you babbling on about now?”
“That bearded man o’er there, the one with a pointy staff. He, too, has sensed it.”
“You mean the Archmage?” You look at the Archmage of Byarlant, and find that he too is staring right at you with his piercing grey eyes. His staff, encrusted in what you now realize to be magnatite, is pulsing with light. No one else in the hall seems to notice, however. Then, he breaks eye contact and the light show fades.
“Athos resides within that staff. Ha! This is a good opportunity. Let us go smash that dunderhead with our knuckles, boy, and show these dullard humans a good spectacle!”
You think unleashing Barbatos and beating an old man bloody senseless on the floor of the royal palace would be quite a spectacle indeed, though the reactions you might get afterwards would not be too comforting.
“He’s not approaching us.”
“Of course he wouldn’t. Cowardice. That is embedded in Athos’s bone.”
“You mean bones?”
“No, bone, for he only has the one.”
You are not even sure how that would work.
***
You are perfectly capable of mingling while eating. You proceed to talk to:
A. Queen Natalia, the hostess of the banquet. She seems otherwise preoccupied with some very important people, but you are not the sort of person that would let that stop you from intruding on a lady.
B. The Crown Prince and his brother, as well as the Duke, who are gathered with the majority of the nobles. They seem stuck up enough to appreciate your big hat, and they do appear to be the actual power players in the country at the moment.
C. Fifth Prince Farstalt and his bevy of women. He seems to be drawing portraits of them at the moment. Perhaps you too can join in and admire the flowers, as there are too many weeds elsewhere in the hall.
D. Prince Fennick, Knight-Commander Belbro and Marquis Ondore, who are conversing and drinking by themselves. Other nobles attempt to join them from time to time, but for some reason they never manage to stay for long.
E. Grand Imperial Archmage Julius Gallardo. The old man has a demonic weapon and so do you. He is a spell caster, and so are you. Surely you have plenty of things in common to talk about. Besides, you would rather approach him first before he gets the jump on you.
F. Count Muscus Norvegis. He’s closely related to some criminal elements, which makes him of some interest to you. Perhaps these Nine Fingers may prove to be useful contacts in the future, and hopefully they are more competent than the ones you once encountered.
G. You attempt to rejoin Prince Farland and Princess Faislin and continue talking to them.
H. You do not approach anyone. Anyone who is interested in you should come to you, rather than you to them.
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